When a sergeant first class requisitions a 75mm blank cartridge, a pillow, a whistling booby trap simulator, an artillery simulator, a high concentration smoke grenade and a jeep, I should refuse even if I'm a lowly specialist, and not chuckle, wink and sign the form.

High concentration smoke pots will not extinguish when urinated on, but will release clouds of ammonia. (Mike did not try this, and knew it would happen. But Mike did observe it.)

I am not allowed to use civilian clothes to play terrorist.

I am not to forget to say 'Exercise transmission' when reporting a teammate AWOL to the MP's.

I may not 'kill' a headquarters unit and then burn the guidon.

Privately owned Mossberg 500 riot guns with bird scarers are not authorized, nor are live 12 gauge shells for hunting pheasants on the way to the field. (Mike did not do this, either, but did observe. BTW: Pheasant tastes like chicken.)

A red felt tip marker for 'slashing' throats to be counted as coup later is not authorized. (Slippery John did that, not Mike. But it was really cool.)

I am not allowed to use a camera flash as an infiltration weapon to blind Entry Control Point sentries.

I am not allowed to lash three extra M-16 MILES transmitters to an M-60 so as to increase the volume of fire.

A $5 digital watch, a silicon controlled rectifier and a model rocket engine do make a cheap, nifty time detonator for a smoke grenade. However, I am not allowed to do this.

Just because a soldier refuses to acknowledge the laser beam from MILES gear as a valid hit does not mean I may bring a paint ball gun on the next deployment and splat him in the head to prove the shot was good.

I may not paint a smiley face on a claymore.

I may not hand someone an extra grenade pin and ask, "Did you lose this?" as a practical joke.

I may not claim that web gear endows me with the powers of Spiderman.

When asked at a promotion board if I've ever considered becoming an officer, the proper answer is not, 'Yes, sir, but my parents were married.'

If a jeep is stuck in a puddle, it is not possible to drain the puddle through a liberal application of artillery simulators. It will only make a muddy mess.

The Barney The Dinosaur theme song is in 4/4 time, but may not be used a marching cadence.

I may not use "Another Brick in the Wall" as a marching cadence while in MOPP Level 4.

There are now women in the military. Therefore, 'Sally, Sally, don't say no' is no longer authorized as a cadence. (The second line is 'Down to the basement we must go' and it degenerates from there.)

I will not douse myself with the contents of a chemical light stick, then knock on a door and tell them there's been a terrible accident.

It is not permissible to straighten the seams on a woman soldier's stockings in formation using one's tongue.

I am no longer allowed to say "If I tell you, I have to kill you."

Pigeons are not Marxists. Neither are they Trotskyites, Maoists, Stalinists or any other sort of Communist.

Even if they are, we are not to use small arms fire to "protect the world from their depredations."

I will not attach the sling to my weapon with a half-windsor knot.

I am not to arrange for a nuclear simulator for any exercise, ever.

Even if we can get one from the Army with a request on unit stationery.

Even if we do change from 747th MtB to 747th FSB to 234th FSB to 634th FSB to 434th FSB within a year's time, I am not allowed to answer the phone, "Unit of the Month Club, Specialist Williamson speaking, how may I help you?"

I am not allowed to enter the dining hall in a suit with a briefcase handcuffed to my wrist and make vague noises about "national security" to recruits.

I am not to refer to an infantryman as an "Autonomous Mobile Biological Mine Clearing Device, Single Use" or a "Self-Actuating Biological Pop Up Target."

"Hey, honey, want to help me violate the UCMJ?" is not a good pickup line to use in the officer's club.

When asked if I'd like to speak to the Officer In Charge, I should not say, "I'd rather speak to the NCO who knows what's going on."

I am not a Marine trapped in an Airman's body.

"If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything at all," is not good advice to give the IG's inspection team.

I do not need to say, 'Excuse me while I whip this out,' every time I use a knife, machete or bayonet.

It may be funny to use a camera flash behind my buddy who is working inside a multi kilovolt power box, but it is also a safety violation and forbidden.

I may not post an alternate menu in the chow hall, with such comestibles as Rat Meat Salad Sandwiches, Southern Fried Pigeon, Cat On A Hot Tin Plate, Skunk Loaf, Spam Chowder, Apple Juice (Eat The Worm!) and Jim Jones' Famous Guyana Kool-Aid.

The British Forces do NOT call their version of MWR, "RBL," for "Rum, Buggery and the Lash."

I do not belong to the Slapaho tribe. (It was a Turkish sergeant who claimed this in a bar full of Canadians.)

I am not allowed to tell a TAC infantry officer, "Sir, I've been in service since you were in grade school and I can PT your ass into the ground."

It may be possible to rotisserie a chicken in front of the nose radar of an F16. However, I am not to demonstrate this.

Nor may I submit a recipe.

Nor may I cook hot dogs by taping them to a 50W radio antenna

I am not too sexy for my shirt.

I may not re-arrange the tracers in the machine gun belts to Morse Code out, "Die, motherfucker, die!"

There is a difference between "shoot in that general direction," and "Shoot in the General's direction." I should be clear of my terminology even if it is only a field exercise.

I may not poll the other NCOs on "Which three soldiers will we have to pre-emptively shoot when we reach hostile territory?" and submit the results to the commander...even if we had unanimous agreement.

When on a military installation as a consultant, I am not allowed to tell nervous NCOs in the chow hall, "You're just jealous because I have better weapons than you."

When asked to sing cadence, "Where There's A Whip, There's A Way" is not appropriate, no matter how catchy the beat.